hags
by Axletia Rosonetis
Summary: Faba won't let anyone cramp his style any longer. Oneshot.


_hags_

 _I tried to write Faba as being gentler but ye that kinda failed. He has a very different outlook than most people in sumo, though._

* * *

Faba slid his closet doors open and took a step back, contemplating his options as he crossed his arms. What were bachelor clothes, and what were bachelor clothes that he could go out to the club in during the three-drink minimum hour? There were a lot of neon pinks that he wouldn't be caught dead in while on the job, but he wasn't sure if there were any pants that would fit…would his work pants fit?

He took two pairs of white pants, one eggshell and one striped, and lifted them each in his hands while closely inspecting them. Wicke came into the bedroom and rolled her eyes, knowing he was probably on his prowling game. They were long over the divorce - why were they even ever married in the first place? - and he had to meet the lucky pal of his dreams sooner or later. He gestured to the pants with a movement of his head. "Which ones, sweetheart? Left or right?"

Wicke pointed to the left, and then to the closet. "Try again. Didn't you use both of these for work ten years ago?"

"I never was one for fashion," Faba admitted, shrugging. "I also have these skin-tight shorts from ten years ago. Remember these sexy times?"

"Ahaha, of course. They were terrible back then."

Wicke giggled and winked, grabbing some paperwork and sitting on the bed they once shared. Their relationship was always rather peculiar. They had shared the same bed up until a few months ago, when Madam President pursued Niliego and then fell ill with her "mysterious illness". Now while they didn't hate each other, there was a certain feeling of animosity that had never been between them.

Or perhaps he was just being paranoid and Wicke was becoming a new, fresh person. He couldn't relate. Trying to be a new, fresh Faba now still felt fake.

He raised an eyebrow, then wheezed with laughter. He? Have terrible taste? He could make a Pyukumuku's anus look quite attractive. Waving a hand in dismissal, he raised the shorts higher and flung them to the bed next to Wicke. "If they were terrible back then, they are _in_ right _now_. Never fear, Wicky-Wicke, ol' Faba still got the swiggity swag in the bag!"

"What's terrible?"

They both turned around, and Faba made a noise that was between a Mudbray's call and a gargling noise. He forgot that Lusamine was on the mend.

He also forgot that Lusamine had began taking to normal mingling with the earthlings.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Wicke smirk and hug the paperwork close to her as she slipped out of the room. She was working and he was not, and the doctors already cleared Lusamine going out to get fresh air.

Well, he was definitely not getting laid tonight.

* * *

"Did you fine gentlemen know that I came all the way from the Kalos region? Lumiose City specifically, one of the most amorous cities in the world. Got my master's at the prestigious Lumiose U and then decided to move here to make the world a better place. I'm _such_ a noble man."

"Oh, please. You moved out here to be with your long-distance girlfriend and then you got married. And now you're not married anymore and we're all stuck at those disgusting dive you picked out tonight."

Faba wished he could've stuck his straw up his former boss's windpipe as the three men scooted away from their booth. He didn't know who was actually fooled by Lusamine's vows to become a better, kinder person. If anything, after fusing with Nihilego she was even more of an ill-tempered hag than ever.

And he was pretty sure her boobs were sagging more now, too.

Lusamine swirled her drink around and leaned her head back against her seat, looking exasperated as she always did nowadays. He had to swallow his pride. Here he was in his swagalicious, sexy pink shirt, nipple piercings, and skin-tight booty shorts, and he was not about to let her sacrifice all of these fine looking people. Not tonight. "Madam President," he started, holding back every urge to comment on those tacky six-inch banana heels she was wearing, "it's been some few years since Mohn abandoned this worldly bucket. You're alive; your kids are dead to you…don't you think it's time to find yourself a big, beefy man?"

"What, you don't want to be my knight in shining armor anymore?"

"Oh, heavens no, you're hideous." Faba casually wiped his sunglasses, ignoring the murderous glare she gave him. "We're not each other's type. I was barely Wicke's type, and we were married for about ten years. I might be gay even."

"I thought you were talking about me."

"Oh, I suppose so. You..your type is… _was_ …Mohn. Did he even go to college?"

"He never went to college. He was always a farmer."

"How tragic. The only love you had, and you outclassed him. At least in looks and education. In personality, he'd outclass you ten times over." If looks could kill, he'd be _dead_ ten times over, but he kept on wiping his sunglasses. "Well, you have a second chance. You can find your knight in shining armor that's just as disgusting as you. You shouldn't let me stop you- frizzle-frazzle, my _shirt_!"

He could feel the ice slide over his sore nipples as Lusamine dumped her Long Island Iced Tea all over his head. Even if he didn't find someone tonight, his job now half-consisted of antagonizing the world's worst boss, so he'd bear ice-cold nips over being thrown out into the street or the ocean any day.

And, smugly smiling to himself, he was pretty sure Fresh Faba could find his own knight in shining armor a lot quicker than any of his hag co-workers.


End file.
